In the Dog House

by Traci Hall

  Just like that, desire for him had rekindled—but not a thing had changed between them. If anything, the chips were stacked even higher. Now, she had a business that needed to expand in order to save dogs, a doctorate her own professor wasn’t sure she wanted—and the stirring of her heartstrings when she thought of Jackson and the man he’d become.

  She might not survive a second broken heart, and he would break it—just by doing what he needed to do, who he’d been raised to be, which was finish his career in the military. He would not choose her—again.

  A shooting star whisked across the night sky, and she closed her eyes to make a wish.

  I want true love with a man I can trust to pick me first. Which crosses Jackson Hardy off the list.

  Chapter Sixteen

  July third, Emma logged on to her computer before Jackson and Matty were due to arrive. She almost spit out her coffee when she saw an email from her professor. The subject read: CALL ME. Capital letters equaled shouting in the cyber world.

  Would he kick her out of the doctorate program? He’d given her until September first. She did want to finish, and after gathering all of her studies and published works, she knew, if she stayed at it, that she could just make that rough draft. Minus the paw prints. But she did have concerns and had to be realistic about them.

  She had some hard thinking to do but not now. It was the last Wednesday with Matthew and Jackson, and she dreaded the void their absence would leave. Forget the psych talk—she was going to miss them terribly.

  She closed down the computer, refilled her coffee, and went outside to wait for Jackson and Matthew by the gate. Jackson had texted her yesterday that he’d convinced Matty to stay with the pups while Jackson talked to Livvie’s doctors; it was sure to be a tough meeting.

  She’d thought they might go to Kingston Animal Shelter, but she would play the activities by ear to see what Matty needed most.

  They arrived in the truck with Bandit, who immediately joined the other dogs and raced around the cherry trees.

  “Morning, guys.” Emma forced cheer into her voice. Sometimes getting answers, even unwelcome ones, allowed you to move forward, and she prayed that things went well at the hospital today.

  Jackson shuffled up to the chain link fence. “Morning. Did you know that the Sold sticker is off that property sign?”

  “It is?” She clamped down the hope that rose like a phoenix. “Probably just fell. I’ll have a look later.”

  Matty had followed Bandit into the yard, leaving his uncle on the opposite side of the fence. He was careful to close the gate and latch it.

  Emma noticed that Jackson looked less haggard today. His jaw was cleanly shaved, his green eyes clear. Bright. He wore blue denims and a gray T-shirt instead of the previous black on black. He was letting the sides of his hair grow past the usual one-inch bristles, and the light brown looked soft to the touch.

  She moved her gaze to Matty, who stood next to her, his ears more prominent. “Did you get a haircut?”

  “Yes,” he grumbled, running a palm over the back of his neck where the skin wasn’t tanned. “Looks dumb.”

  “It’s very nice. I like it.”

  “You do?”

  “I swear.” She held up her hand.

  He looked away with a slight smile. “I got new shoes, too.”

  Emma glanced down at the gray and red sneakers. “Nice. I hope you don’t mind getting them dirty.”

  “He outgrew the other ones and refused to wear them with the toes cut out.” Jackson shrugged to show he was teasing.

  “I’d like you both to stay for dinner tonight,” she said, wondering if she could come up with other ways for them to stick around. “Grilled chicken on the barbecue.” Emma studied Jackson’s face, imagining the scruff of his jaw beneath her lips. “Aunt Pepita is back, and I know she’ll want to see you, too, if you want.” Could Emma offer Matty a job for the rest of the summer? Or would Jackson see right through her ploy? He had to know she cared. Very much. Too much.

  She’d have to be a fool not to realize how careful he’d been not to touch her, or be alone with her, since she’d come over with Bandit. His admission of seeming weak had come as a surprise when he was so strong. She swallowed her longing and chased it with a swallow of coffee.

  He patted the four-foot-tall fence between them. “Sounds great.”

  Matthew flung a red Frisbee and then took off after it, Romeo on his heels.

  “How did your weekend go?” she asked, searching for signs of distress, but his posture was easy confidence. “Are you sleeping?”

  “It’s all right. I have Bandit in my room, with the crate door open. He sleeps in there.” Jackson rubbed his cheek and scowled. “We’re still working on the not licking, though.”

  “Keep practicing. It takes more than a week, you know.” She touched his arm, drawn to him like a flower to the sun. His skin at the wrist was warm, the hair soft beneath her fingertips. Before she realized what she was doing, she caressed her thumb down the back of his hand.

  He sucked in a breath and looked down. She pulled back as if she’d done something wrong. Hadn’t she?

  Jackson’s green eyes stared into hers. The air between them charged with sensual awareness, and it was hard for her to think.

  “I’m going to miss seeing you.” His deep voice caused her to shiver.

  Emma’s mouth dried as she stared at his lower lip, knowing the firmness of his skin, the teasing warmth of his tongue. She swallowed over the lump in her throat. “Me too.”

  She didn’t recognize her own voice, and her heart sped up.

  He gestured with his finger for her to come closer, and she did, so that they were nose to nose with the fence between them. Her body yearned for his touch; her skin prickled as she looked into his eyes.

  With the lightest pressure, he gently, sweetly, put his mouth to hers. His breath mingled with hers, coffee, and toothpaste, Emma and Jackson. Her eyes fluttered, and she was tempted to hop the fence. But she’d jumped into the man’s arms once already, and that was probably enough.

  He eased back, maintaining his gaze. She brought her hand to her throat to calm the speeding pulse. Jackson broke the spell between them by shouting a goodbye to Matthew, who waved and went around the tree again.

  “Good luck today, with Livvie.”

  He swaggered to his truck with a wave.

  Her adrenaline pumped so hard she could’ve chased after his royal blue Dodge Ram and caught up before he reached the end of her driveway.

  It took at least ten minutes before she could focus. Matthew ran around chasing squirrels with Romeo while she tried to understand what had just happened. She warned herself to get her emotions together—didn’t she know the statistics on desire? The perils of following the libido? Oh, yes she did.

  …

  Jackson walked into the sterile-smelling Swedish Hospital and headed to the ICU, reliving the sweet heat of Emma’s kiss. He drew on that for warmth, as the chill of the hospital doused his hopeful spirits.

  He washed with antibacterial soap harsh enough to remove a layer of skin and entered his sister’s room, her face somehow paler than ever. He covered her hand with his, willing his warmth and life force into her. Bowing his head, he prayed for her recovery and that she would remember her son, her reason to live.

  The doctor came in with Bonnie at his heels. He’d met her a few times over the years, a sturdy blonde, today dressed in red, white, and blue scrubs.

  “Good morning. This is a difficult situation,” the doctor said. Tall, mid-sixties, with a slim build, the man had a white jacket with lots of pockets. “And the reason that we wait, sometimes, as long as we do with a coma patient.”

  Bonnie’s mouth twitched.

  Confused, he looked from his sister, supine and still, to the doc, to Bonnie. “What are you saying? The simpler the better, please?”

  “The recent MRI shows the wound is closing. If your sister continues to improve, we can start preparing her
to breathe without the machines.”

  Jackson stood and stumbled, his eyes welling as he dashed hot tears free. “She’s improving? Will she be okay? Can she come home? When can we—?”

  Bonnie started laughing and grabbed him in a teary hug. “Take a breath, Jackson.”

  The doctor shrugged but gave a cautious smile. “There is still a long road ahead. These things don’t happen overnight.”

  Bonnie pointed to the beeping machines with numbers that Jackson didn’t understand and then touched Livvie’s forearm, in a tiny spot that wasn’t covered in tubes or tape. “I know our Livvie, and she’s a fighter.”

  Jackson stepped to the side of his sister’s bed and kissed her forehead. Her pale skin was cold beneath his lips, and it scared him that he couldn’t see any difference. What was he missing? “Keep fighting, Livvie. Matty and I love you.”

  He sat at her side for hours, willing her his strength. Soon, Liv, you’ll be home.

  That evening, Jackson drove his truck to Emma’s house, his mood lifting as soon as he turned down the tree-lined drive. The paperwork required for the insurance company was daunting, but as soon as the day after tomorrow, his sister could be awake.

  The yellow rancher welcomed him as he parked next to Emma’s silver SUV.

  He’d purchased a dark purple orchid that seemed like it might fit on the back porch, a box of designer dog treats, and had a deep hunger to see Emma that wouldn’t go away. He’d held on to their kiss that morning through the rough patches.

  Around the back, the six dogs, counting Bandit, barked in greeting in the yard with the fountain. Aunt Pepita, in a red and white checked apron, tended the smoking cedar chips at the grill. The savory smell of grilled sausage wafted toward him.

  Emma, still in her shorts and shirt from earlier, wore a harried expression as she talked on the phone.

  Matty tossed a ball to Romeo and King, his back to Jackson. He and Bonnie had discussed whether or not to tell Matty about his mother’s improvement. By tomorrow, the doctors might know if her healing continued, and then they’d lower the dosages of the medicines keeping Livvie unconscious. He didn’t understand all they’d told him, but fortunately Bonnie relayed the medical lingo in everyday language afterward.

  Emma waved and returned to her phone conversation, her shoulders rigid and mouth turned down.

  “Hello, Aunt Pepita. I brought something for the porch.” He leaned in to kiss her weathered cheek. Bright rainbow earrings dangled from stretched lobes.

  “Welcome, Jackson.” She smiled through the smoke. “We’ve got chicken breast, or Italian sausage, or both.”

  “Sounds terrific. Why choose, when you can have it all?”

  “Exactly!” She pointed at the porch with her tongs. “Go ahead and get yourself something to drink. Tea, lemonade, wine, or beer.”

  He walked up the steps and centered the purple orchid on the picnic table. Emma slammed out of the kitchen to the porch and stopped short when she saw him. Her cheeks were pretty pink, her hazel eyes snapping with temper.

  “You will never believe what the VA is trying to do now.” She went back inside and gestured for him to follow.

  He did, and she faced him in the kitchen. Instead of jumping into his arms for a kiss, she raised her chin—upset and not wanting to share it with everybody else.

  “This concerns you,” she said with a fervent nod. “Well, it could, if you had to go through the regular channels for a dog to help you with your nightmares. They’re refusing to grant funding for EST dogs for vets. They seem to agree with your Dr. Smith that dogs are just pets. Teddy bears! Regular old dogs you can find off the street.” She slowed down, her hands on his forearms. “Well, let me tell you, if the dog has the right temperament, it can be trained. But it does need to be trained! You can’t just willy-nilly decide. Our dogs help people, Jackson.”

  Her foot stomp at the end of her tirade made him chuckle, which was the wrong response. He realized his mistake right away—when tears welled in her hazel eyes.

  “You’re laughing at me?”

  Jackson gently pulled her into a comforting hug, running his hands up and down her stiff spine. “Never, Em. I know how important your work is to you and to anybody lucky enough to get one of your dogs.”

  It took a minute, but she finally relaxed into his embrace, her cheek naturally settling against his chest. They fit together like two parts of a whole.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, his fingers stroking her hair. She smelled like roses and fresh air. He should not be holding her, knowing now that he would be leaving, probably within the month.

  He couldn’t move away. This time he understood fully what he was leaving behind, picnics for rations, and that made the sacrifice even harder.

  Emma sniffed, her voice muffled against his T-shirt. “I guess you think I’m being silly.”

  “No, you surprised me, that’s all. You were just so passionate.”

  Passionate was perhaps the wrong word, he thought, with her already in his arms—it wasn’t enough. She wasn’t close enough. He pressed a kiss to the top of her hair. Soft, silky.

  Still not enough.

  He leaned back and tipped her chin up. Her expression changed from confused to wanting, and he didn’t think about anything else but kissing her. She parted her lips, maybe to protest, but he didn’t give her time. Instead, he took advantage and pressed his mouth to hers. Gently, but insistently.

  Emma tasted like watermelon, like white wine, like grapes. Her tender skin gave way beneath his, and she sighed with pleasure against his mouth. His hand cupped the back of her head, and he walked her backward until she reached the sink. He leaned both hands on either side of her, anchoring them to the counter. His knees braced on either side of her legs, and he deepened the kiss, sharing with each press his unspoken feelings.

  She pulled her mouth free, her head resting above his wildly beating heart. “Jackson,” she whispered.

  “This morning’s kiss was just a tease. I’ve wanted to do this all day.” He smoothed his rough palm down her arm, watching her shiver, needing her close. Would she tell him to take a hike?

  Emma stood on tiptoe, her mouth a hair’s breadth away from his. “I’ve wanted it, too, even though it can’t go anywhere.”

  She reached for him, her fingers tickling the hair at the back of his neck as she wrapped her body around his. She was right, yet he was trapped by their feelings, too. He held her so that she wouldn’t let him go. There was no way they weren’t going to be hurt at the end of this affair.

  Jackson deepened their kiss.

  Emma returned his ardor, tightening her arms around his shoulders before she slowly eased away, her cheeks pink and rosy. “I love your kisses.”

  “I practiced with a master at the beach,” he said teasingly. They’d spent hours just kissing.

  “We should get back to the party. I smell barbecue.” She exhaled and gave a slight shake of her head. “How did the visit go?”

  He got the message—time to join the others. “Come on, it’s good news, actually.” They went out to the picnic table and the waiting feast.

  “I could use some good news,” she said, her pinky skimming the outside of his hand.

  “Uncle Jackson!” Matty sank down on the bench. “I didn’t see you get here.”

  “I just did.” He stood behind Matty and ruffled his hair.

  “How’s Mom?” Matty glanced up as he reached for a roll.

  “There’s been some improvement, Matty.”

  His nephew froze in place. Jackson sat next to him and looked him in the eye, knowing the shock he must be feeling. After weeks of no change, it was an emotional wallop.

  “The doctor said that if she continues to heal, then we can see about getting her breathing on her own.”

  Aunt Pepita whooped, and Emma clapped. The dogs barked excitedly.

  Matty slammed his arms around Jackson, and Jackson rocked backward, happy to accept the weight of his hug. Glad to be here for M
atty. He didn’t share with them the doc’s warning that her recovery could be difficult. He would take care of it, no matter what.

  Right now, they needed the joy of Livvie’s coming back to life.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Emma woke before dawn on July fourth and stretched her arms above her head, not the least bit tired though her sleep had been filled with cautionary dreams. Jackson made her want to push aside her studies for a family right now. To build a home, in addition to the dog shelter, as if time had no constraints. To open her heart to love, when she knew for a fact that the man who brought her joy was not the kind to stick around.

  Emma showered and dressed, knowing that makeup would be a waste of time. Braiding her hair with red and blue ribbons was the fanciest she could muster in the July heat. Blue shorts, light blue polo, and red, white, and blue sneakers for a festive touch. The booths would be set up along Main Street, one block up from the bay, but if last year was anything to go by, the breeze wouldn’t be enough to squelch the summer’s heat.

  As early as she’d woken, the smell of frying bacon let her know Pep was up earlier. Emma poked her head into the kitchen. Sure enough, her aunt, dressed in denim short coveralls over a scarlet tank top, a stars and stripes bandana on her head, stood at the oven.

  “Morning,” Emma said. “I’ll let the dogs out into the yard, let them run around a little before we need to pen them up.”

  “I froze watermelon cubes for treats,” her aunt said.

  “Great idea. I was going to do that yesterday and totally ran out of time.”

  Her aunt turned on her with a knowing smile. “Because you were too busy whispering with Jackson?”

  “What?” she asked, unable to hide a smile.

  Pep lifted a few strips of bacon from the pan to a waiting paper towel. “I think it’s wonderful. And about time, too.”

  “He’s been around only a few weeks. Jackson and I are friends, that’s it, Aunt Pepita.”